


Stars Never Meant to Fall

by didsomeonesayventus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesayventus/pseuds/didsomeonesayventus
Summary: His father wanted the throne at any cost, and sent him in his stead.He wanted a taste of freedom so badly he would tear his own heart out a hundredfold to see it.At the heart of it a prince, ever gazing towards the light of the future and unaware of the shadow at his back.Life is never so simple. Love is never so kind.After all, why else would he fall in love with the man he was sent to kill?





	1. Chapter 1

“Do you recognize him?”

“... Yes, father.”

“Who is he?”

“Crown Prince of the Royal Isles. The next king of Fortuna.”

“And you are?”

“Earl of the Hinterlands-”

“ _And you are?_ ”

“... nobody.”

“And what are you supposed to do?”

“Create a power vacuum, in which we can make a bid for the throne.”

“By?”

“... Killing him.”

~*~

Ventus was cordial, but stony faced, as he stepped out from the carriage. His reason for attendance was simple: a place to stay in court, heralded by his arrival to the Crown Prince’s Gala announcing his inheritance. The King had not yet left this world, nor stepped from the throne, but his Heir Apparent had shown his face at last.

The motive was something he would have to keep close.

Though his joy at arrival was false, his dumbstruck nature was heartfelt. He truly was taken aback by the much kinder climate the Royal Islands fell under. The warm breeze, the fair sky bleeding into a brilliant sunset. The castle was made of seashell pink alabaster, worn smooth perhaps by the salt-laden air. He drank in the glowing hall, strained to hear his steps against the carpet in the throng of other guests as his eyes wandered over the opulent, undulating sculptures and frescoes and other such finery. The crowd piled towards the front, everyone filing into line to be announced to the public and royal family. Lords, ladies, princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses... A crowd of nobility and blue blood Ven was seamless in, and the regalia did no favors to mark his identity as anything more significant than another face in the crowd. A masked ball was a curious choice, after all.

“Earl Ventus of the Hinterlands!”

No sooner had his name finished he was rushing down the stairs. He didn’t look out of place, but he did not desire a spotlight. His blue eyes scanned for the prince behind his mask, and the carefully sculpted brass warmed under his burning face and slowly staggering breath. He was already sweaty palms and short of breath. To think he didn’t even have a plan yet or anything to make one with. 

But if he could impress, if he could do this against all the odds, he would never live in fear again.

His target was easy to find, easy to skirt around. He wore no mask, not that it would help hide his silver hair pulled into a neat ponytail or the emblem of the royal family pinned to his pale lapel. The target. The one with a noose around his throat, the one with eyes that would dull and poison that would drip from his lips or have blood blossom across his white suit. This handsome young man with a gentle smile and an air of wisdom beyond his years. No matter. Ven would find ways to hate him, ways to justify his task. No one was perfect, after all, maybe he was an arrogant fool who would lead the country to ruin.

Ven circled around for drinks, easily darting in and out, waltzing through like a lazy summer breeze with all his thoughts focused on why he was here. Get close to the prince, find his weakness, find a way to murder him before he was coronated, find a way to get himself on the throne. A feat easier said than done. Gods above, it gnawed at his stomach the way the ocean gnawed at the shore.

He could get killed for this. Perhaps they would believe that his father- the Grand Duke of the Hinterlands, Xehanort -planned this. Or maybe he would be blamed for lying and sullying his father’s name, easily. He may have been Earl of the nicer part of their less fertile stake in the country for his troubles, but Ventus was no leader. Too timid, too unsure of himself, and too eager to please and all of it easily written off as guilt on his sleeve. His swallowed thickly, ignoring the glass in his hand. Maybe they meant for him to die to prune the candidates for the throne. Maybe his fear and untapped ambition made him an agent too desperate to fail. 

He thought about the noose blowing in an abandoned corner of the crown city, passed by with little consequence but not hard to imagine-

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Ven didn’t know who he crashed into, just that he spilled the drinks all over them. His mask had become skewed, denying him the sight of the stranger. Male, that was about all he could guess.

“H-here, lemme fix that for you.” The hands that grabbed and readjusted his mask were surprisingly calloused. Warm, gentle, patting it down to be sure before pulling away to reveal a smiling, tanned face under a mess of brown hair, the rest hidden behind a blue sky and clouds that at first glance were white, but truly were a melted mess of pastel hues. “Forgive me.” He made a cocky, abrupt bow with his head, and Ven felt his lips press in anticipation of an insult before it was explained. “I should behave better at my brother’s party, shouldn’t I?”

Ven’s eyes darted to the man’s lapel, and indeed his heraldry sparkled in the light. He bowed, struck with a sense of relieved dread at how he’d held his tongue, “I-I should watch where I’m going, Your Highness-”

“Please, when we’re both wearing masks?” The younger prince laughed, “I think Lord and Lady suit us all just fine tonight.”

Ven’s eyes darted away. Years of study had not prepared him for how casual the younger brother was. “O-of course, Lord Sora. What a stunning idea.”

“Lord Sora.” He hummed in reply with a wry smile, “I kinda like the sound of that.” He missed the quietly appalled looks the surrounding audience gave each other. He was too preoccupied staring wistfully in the distance to savor the lesser title as the nobility around him panicked at how to respond. “Maybe I should ask-”

“Congratulations on your brother's inheritance.” Ven blurted, his lips curling inward immediately after. “A-and I... Apologize for your missed chance-”

“We both knew it was gonna be him.” Sora chuckled, “Older, smarter, keeps his mouth shut when he should, of course he's the Crown Prince.” He smiled wide at the depreciation-riddled comments. Ven felt himself frowning.

“Well... My Lord should not sell himself short.” Ven mumbled. Maybe if he could get on his good side-

“Not selling myself short.” Sora cut him off, “Understanding my flaws.” There were many hands clapping, some polite and others enthusiastic at the show of wisdom beyond his youth. Sora beamed, drinking the applause up with outstretched hands, “As you can see, my ego is a bit too easy to stroke.”

“Maybe you should find yourself a fair lass to give it a more than good stroke or two.” Someone joked, and immediately there was raucous laughter that made Ven's ears ring and his stomach do flips. Too noisy, the humor fell flat on his ears. He wanted to go home- or maybe his room-

And Sora frowned. The laughter faltered into the thrum of footsteps and chit chat elsewhere. “I hope you all know I found that highly unamusing.” As if he needed to explain the way mirth had vanished and rendered his tone flat.

He held out his arm, and a bird of paradise took it. Or at least a woman who had done a stunning job presenting herself as such. The plumage of her mask was a rainbow, her gown was a rich coral but seemed to shift in hue in the light. Her red hair was swept behind in a loose loop of silken scarlet, and her eyes narrowed to amethyst slits.

“He has found a lass, thank you very much.” She announced.

“Princess Kairi!” One woman bowed, rippling to everyone else in a hasty backpedal when they recognized the pearl pin- once again the emblem of the royal family -keeping a set of feathers in place.

Sora nodded, his grin returning in full, smug force. He leaned over, his lips brushed the shell of his betrothed's ear, “I told you, I could make anything you want a reality, my love.”

“Sora, I'm fine.” She giggled back at him, her face glowing red under her mask.

Sora kissed her cheek, “As it should be.”

Her hand brushed his coat, and she pulled it back with a questioning glare, “Why are you- did you already spill champagne on yourself?!”

“No! It was-”

Ven had already moved on. The vacancy in his gaze returned as he grabbed other drinks. He passed over a man dressed like a raven and a woman feathered like a dove. He passed the moon and the sun. He ducked under the arm of ochre-draped man who had been chasing after the trailing chiffon of a mermaid. A butterfly mask nestled under mint green curls. Harp music drifted in the air. Ven only noticed these people, and none of them sank to heart.

Sora was close. Close, but no cigar. Sora was a social butterfly. Already used to making friends and keeping appropriate distance to protect those he loved. He was cordial and easy to get to, but ultimately wasteful. Ven pushed up his mask, gently patting the chariot carvings and brushing over the lyre atop the mask before combing through his hair. Angles, angles... He swirled the champagne around before downing the whole glass at once. His lungs burned without air for a moment, and then he burped into the empty glass for lack of a hand. His eyes sheepishly watched his flank for disapproving looks.

He bumped into another person tonight, this time to arguably more disastrous results. He didn't spill a drop, his mask stayed in place, but he was looking up at the Crown Prince himself. His target found, and spared for the lack of implementation.

The young man smiled at him. Ventus felt himself curling like he'd eaten sour candy with the bitter tang of a wish for death's embrace. “M-my Lord-” no- “Your Highness!” Ven keeled over into as deep a bow as he could muster, careful to hold his drink up. He didn't want to rise, he didn't want to stand straight and admit he called his future King something as petty as Lord-

“So I see Sora's idea has caught on.” His voice was a smooth tenor, rumbling with amusement. “I didn't think people would listen.”

“His Highness is royalty, I would be foolish not to listen.” Ven stared at his feet. His face grew heated, his heart roared in his ears. Too many people. Nothing to use. The drinks weren’t poisoned, breaking them wouldn’t make an effective weapon even if there wasn’t a crowd. So close, he could feel the pulse of royal blood unless it was his own carving a void of static in his thoughts-

“You can... um... stand up?” the prince muttered, “A-are you from a long way-”

“Ventus, of the Hinterlands.” He sprung into form, unfortunately spilling the drink for His Highness onto himself. He kept his mouth thin, expression blank and nervous. He felt like he could snap the champagne glass in two.

“Well met, and... well, wet.” Ven watched the prince smile warmly and hold out his hand. “As you know, I'm Riku.”

“Crown Prince, Riku.” Ven corrected him with a polite nod. Yes, he was definitely going to snap his glass clean in half with his bare hands. Riku’s features crumpled with something that wasn’t quite anger, and Ven didn’t understand it. His eyes darted at his hand and then Ven.

Ven’s head was a buzz of swears as he quickly moved his empty glasses to one hand and shook the prince’s hand, then stooped to kiss the back of it just to make sure. “My sincerest apologies, Your Highness. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight-”

“Well, being covered in champagne doesn’t help a bit, does it?” Riku’s laughter was wonderful, the good natured sort. His head canted, smile warm, “I hope you have a spare suit somewhere-”

“I-I do, actually.” Ven felt a servant gently pry the empty glass from his hand, but he felt a lingering impression in his skin.

Riku blinked, “Oh?”

Ven nodded quickly. “I-I was planning on staying here at court, if Your Highness finds it permissible.”

Riku’s smile became a little more daring, like he’d just heard fantastic news. He winked with a shrug, and then turned to move on with the night, “I thought I’d kept it a good secret, but I suppose I’ll have to make the announcement.”

Ven trailed after him lamely, “W-what announc-”

Riku grabbed a glass, flicking it for a clear ring. The music stopped, the crowd fell to a hush and turned towards the Crown Prince and the anxious, drink-covered young man freezing up behind him.

“I want to start by thanking all of you for attending tonight’s affair.” Riku called out, “It’s a gesture of good will that I wholeheartedly accept and will serve a reminder of the caring and dignified people I have around me” In his head, Ventus was already slipping back into the crowd, but he was frozen just behind Riku’s back and left in the open by those who scooted away to give the prince room. He didn’t need attention, he did not need attention-

“And I wish to reciprocate this cordiality, to pay it forward to a select and important few of you.” The crowd buzzed with excitement like flies on a carcass, but Riku paid it no mind. He smiled and raised his glass, “I invite one person of each household of the country of Fortuna to stay here in court, and one person of every kingdom and country in attendance to stay, as well.”

The hum became confused, panicked. There were people who most certainly did not expect staying and now there was the dilemma of who to send and why.

“These people will become my personal court.” Riku continued. “I ask they stay here with me... hmm...” He swirled his glass in thought, as if the date was as arbitrary as the announcement. “3 years. 3 years they will stay as my personal court to teach me the ways, manners, customs, et cetera, of the factions and people I will be working with in my coming reign. I want to hear the diverse chorus of voices that I will be representing and negotiating with for myself.”

He looked around, and Ven started finally scooting back only for the prince to turn to him and yank him forward with an arm around his shoulders. He froze again like a deer in headlights and limp as a ragdoll cat that had been picked up by a reckless child.

“Ventus of the Hinterlands is the first to make the decision to stay, and I ask those of you who wish to as well step forward.”

Ven watched Kairi come through the crowd, curtsying with a smirk, “Would His Highness permit me to represent Radiant Garden?”

“My brother’s fiancee? Of course, how could I deny you?” Riku knowingly smirked back.

Ven didn’t catch much else. He didn’t watch the crowd and didn’t leave from under Riku’s hand on his shoulder. He just counted the number of people announcing themselves, taking a silent headcount of witnesses. So many people who could find him, become privy to why he was placed here, to lend their eyes and ears to the prince when they saw his suspicion clear as sunlight through the clouds.

This would be much harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi can you believe that this started with the simple idea of a fake dating AU? I sure as heck can't.


	2. Chapter 2

“Forgive me for keeping this blunt, but, here’s your quarters for your stay.” Riku opened the doors to a room fit for royalty. He held out his arm and watched Ven walk in. His hand rested on the door, ready to close it behind him, “Your family will receive a letter of thanks in due time. Excuse me as I go to show everyone else where they will stay, and I remind you breakfast tomorrow will be held at half past 8 in the dining hall.” Riku bowed as he closed the door behind him.

Ven turned back to his room. Upper level, decorated in green and gold tinted in the deep blue shadows of night. The bed had tapestries pulled back to let in the moonlight, and the place reeked of the same stifling opulence back home. Ven sucked in a breath between his teeth and closed his eyes. Time meant nothing as he stood there, sifting through countless memories to sate the twisted feeling of homesickness. Eventually he walked forward with dignity, but was all too prepared to fall face first into that luxurious duvet.

At least until his door opened. He whirled around, blinking at the glowing sight of a white dress belonging to a long, gentle face.

“Hello. I just thought I would see who has become my neighbor across the hall.” Her accent wasn’t entirely strange, nor rendered her words meaningless, but it was different enough to signal her as from another part of the world.

“I’m Ventus.” He replied.

She curtsied in return, “Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Oracle of Tenebrae.”

He nodded, “Your Holiness.”

She giggled and leaned up against the doorframe. Her arms crossed neatly over her feathery dress, “No need for that, we’re all here for a greater purpose that shouldn’t be sullied with such stiff mannerisms. Although I wondered if anyone knew of the Hexatheon.”

Ven licked his lips. Well, his father had drilled much into his dense head. His fiddled with his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “W-well... those who follow the Six are rarer outside of Lucis and Tenebrae, but it’s still a quite vocal religion.” He felt his face burning as he tugged at his sleeves, “Tenebrae isn’t an... Well, p-pardon my bluntness, it’s... not an actual country, right?”

“A city-state, yes.” She nodded, “We govern ourselves just on the outskirts of Lucis, as a country should, but our theocracy is still quite small.”

“Governed by Her Holiness, of course.” Ven nodded, “A powerful force amongst those who believe.” He frowned, “Won’t they-”

“My brother can rule for a few years. I trust him to rule in my stead, and I will ask His Highness temporary leave every so often to attend to my duties as needed.” Lunafreya’s voice maintained an ease, a coolness. Everything would be alright in her eyes, but Ven supposed that if you spoke to the gods all was reassured. He drifted over to a seat at a desk, suddenly very self conscious of her gaze. Did she watch him the way her gods did? Better question: would she be forgiving of the sins now crawling on his back? Could she advocate for his innocence if he was caught? Or would she see to it he was left in fire and brimstone?

He had to ignore her. Maybe she’d go away. He began rifling through the desk- his desk now -to see what he was provided, if anything. Ink, quills, a few journals that upon inspection were blank. He found himself staring at the cover, reminded of his own journal he left back home. No trace. His thumb rolled over the ornate designs carved into the leather with a sort of forlorn agreement it was hard to turn back now.

She suddenly spoke, “I apologize. I know it’s late from the night’s gala, but I was curious.” She watched him, head tilted, brow furrowed, “Do you need me to come back in the morning or-”

“T-that would be appreciated, Lady Luna.” It took him a moment to realize he’d cut her name short, and clamped a hand over his mouth before stammering, “F-forgive me I shouldn’t have-”

Luna giggled, “No, no, I... I rather like it.” She bowed, her smile twinkled in the moonlight. “Good night, Sir Ventus.” And then she was gone. 

Ven sucked in all the air in the room before hurling it back into the silence. His rigid posture sank in his chair. Ignoring her worked. He then leapt up to the door and locked it. Firm. Tight. No one was getting in unless he wanted them to. He collapsed into his chair again, and picked the journal back up. The pages would listen. They always did. Not like they had much choice there, though. He took a quick count- 3 of them. It’d be no use weaving in his notes with his personal venting, so he would need to get a couple more if he wasn’t quick enough.

He pulled out two of them, opened them both to the first page, and in one he quickly jotted down what he had learned tonight. In the other, he let the pages listen. A day at a time, that’s how he survived.

It was going to be a long three years.

~*~

Ven had always preferred his oatmeal with berries. Raspberries, blackberries, he liked it somewhat tart with a pinch of sugar. It was no surprise that being given such options at breakfast left him more comfortable than he’d been since arrival. Sure, he woke up and came down a good deal of time before he was needed, but the cooks were kind and he liked the quiet of the dining hall. Sleepy, empty, relaxed. Ven could wake at sunrise like his bed was pins and needles without issue, and it was better to calm his nerves before the real masquerade began.

And yet for every person who walked in, the more his hand shook. The table filled with the people who he’d have to share his time with, and many of them already friends by the look of things. Ven was doing mental gymnastics to try and remember who was in attendance.

At least until Riku came in. Ven quietly bit down on his last spoonful as he took the rightful head of the table, and already he began making idle chat. His eyes were sharp, focused, the color of ice but far from harsh. His skin was pale, the flesh tint barely contrasting the silvery lavender of his hair, and the apples of his cheeks rosy. His voice was clear, relaxed, soothing.

Ven eyed what he got for breakfast, then reached over to a bag he’d brought with him to pull out his journal and note it down. One dish closer to being able to figure out what was most likely Riku’s food to open up the option for poison-

“What’re you writing?”

Ven jumped, the book snapping shut. He looked over to see the man reading over his shoulder. He was probably the tallest among them all, and the strongest, but with his hands folded behind his back and smiling blue eyes, he looked like he wasn’t the type to look for a fight.

“J-just... wanna learn.” Ven lamely explained, “If the prince is learning about us, maybe I should try, too.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” The man stood straighter, and confirmed Ven’s suspicion. He already felt small, now he was microscopic. “I should introduce myself. I’m Terra.”

“Ventus.” Ven quietly put his journal back up. He went back to eating his breakfast, not sure how to carry on. Terra sat next to him. Everyone else was already talking, talking. Ven leaned on one hand. Terra coughed.

“Where you from?”

“HInterlands. House Dubhan.”

“Oh. The untamed wilderness that you guys still can’t clear out-”

“Not worth it, or so my father tells me.”

“... Right...”

Ven pushed aside his empty bowl. He was about to excuse himself when Riku stood from his seat, hand held up to gain everyone’s attention. He was patient, waiting for every word to fall silent and all eyes to turn to him.

“I know I said I want to learn from all of you, but I do know I’m just one man. So over the course of our stay here, I’ll be sure to take your advice one on one. At least a few minutes each day.” He turned to a raven-haired gentleman, “Prince Noctis?”

Everyone turned to look at him. He adjusted his cravat, his mouth thin and eyes wide, “Y-yes, Your Highness?”

Riku walked away from his seat, waving him along, “Come, we’ll start with you.”

Noctis rose to follow, but not without tossing the table an apprehensive look. Ven read it easily as a cry for help, but simply went back to his breakfast like the rest. He’d just wait for his turn, then find out what it was like being one on one. He pulled out his notebook and wrote down an opportunity of privacy.

“What’s new?” Terra asked, “Because there wasn’t much to that-”

“Uh, P-prince Noctis.” He added a note about him, too. Good to know who would make good allies. “Just want to have a nice list of people.” He added Terra. Terra seemed interested in him, and maybe he could get him sympathetic to his plight.

“Aren’t you organized.” Terra chuckled.

“I... I’m working on it.” Ven admitted. He could be organized, if he wanted to, but most of the time his thoughts were as free range as the winds. That was not going to serve him well at all here.

“Aren’t we all working on something?” Terra continued laughing. Ven’s gut reaction was at him, but something in the tone felt more curious at the statement. He quietly closed his book and noted everyone dispersing into their own little groups and leaving the dining hall. On one hand, no one disturbing him. On the other, already an outlier and already suspicious... Save Terra. He looked at Terra out of the corner of his eyes.

Terra furrowed his brow. “What?”

Ven looked at his lap, his mouth thin. “Uh... what should we do?”

With frightening casualness Terra shrugged. “Dunno.” He then quietly elbowed Ventus with a sly wink, “I hear a colonel’s here, think a spar is in order?”

“I’d hope not.” Useless at sword fighting. Getting a dagger in Riku’s ribs would be his greatest accomplishment.

“Heard of ‘em, but not by much.” Terra continued, “Come from Esperia. Renowned, military genius, hasn’t lost a single unit-”

“ _Esperians outclass any human._ ” Ventus stopped Terra in his tracks with one mortified, deadpan sentence, “They’re- They’re literally raised in a magicite-rich environment from birth that gives them strength and speed and endurance beyond our dreams-”

Terra cracked his knuckles with a wide grin.

Ven leaned back, trying to stave off his heart attack, “T-Terra you can’t be serious-”

“I’m confident I can at least beat them in a sparring match!” His confidence burst at the seams.

Ven couldn’t take this. He couldn’t. Terra was going to cause chaos. “Who even is this?!” He yelled.

“Colonel Branford, that’s the most I know.” Terra huffed. His cheeks turned a nice terracotta color that reminded Ven of an unassuming pot, “I-I’m from House Eardwulf. My family’s part of the central farmlands, we don’t deal that much with diplomacy of other countries. At least I don’t.”

“Then why do you want to pick a fight with them?!” Ven couldn’t hide his exasperation. “Ever read a book?! We’re lucky Esperia hasn’t mowed the whole kingdom to the ground!”

“Lighten up, would you, hinter-boy?” Terra sighed, “A friendly sparring match won’t be the end of the world-”

“I’m just saying!” Ven threw up his hands. He was already mildly hyperventilating, “Esperia is a powerful ally, the only reason they remain neutral is their policies keeping diplomacy to a minimum and staying out of our petty conflicts and- heck they even resolve some by threatening to get involved! Gods, they make a killing off of their magicite, too-”

“Magicite is the stuff the Archmages use, right?” Terra asked, and for once making sense to Ven.

Ven stared at Terra for a long time before stating, “Yes.”

“Huh.” Terra squared his shoulders. His grin returned, “I mean, come on. A little spar wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Ven watched him go, then sprang into a gallop right after, “T-TERRA WAIT!”

“Well, what else am I going to do, huh?” Terra shrugged back at Ven, “Right now all I’m doing is waiting on His Highness. I gotta make the most of my time, you know?” He began jogging off, waving behind him as he went off in pursuit of what was the stupidest thing Ven had ever seen, “I’ll catch you later!”

Ven stumbled to a halt in the hallway, suddenly at a loss for... everything. What was he going to do? Where did he begin? He looked at his journal, and managed a weak smile. “Got you, at least.” He flipped through the blank pages, taking in the few notes he’d made. Riku’s breakfast. A basic description of Noctis and a note of status, and another one for Terra. The hastily jotted “1-on-1 with target every day”. “Got you...” He muttered with less enthusiasm, knowing full well what was going to line the pages.

A draft passed through the hallway. Birdsong was heard just outside the window, twinkling like the golden filigree everywhere or the crystal beads on the chandelier. It was pretty, but it all felt like it was lacking substance, or maybe that was just how light Ventus felt himself.

He had no friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now that I have more than one chapter I can put authors comments at the end and AO3 won't butcher the horribly lmao
> 
> anyways slowly rounding out the court here, and I'm gonna be focusing on kind of a small number? I'd imagine there would be more people to represent but for the sake of plot I can't. focus on all of them lmao. I prefer my stories snappy and to a point ha ha. Brownie points for anyone who knows who Colonel Branford is.
> 
> anyways "Day 1 dear diary I'm pretty sure I'm already dead"


End file.
